


In Her Own Dimension

by the_invisible_girl



Series: The Blue and Gold Chronicles [7]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Betty Cooper is a wonderful human being, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/M, Jughead is a poor sad sweetie, May FP Jones Burn in Hell, who deserves all the happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_invisible_girl/pseuds/the_invisible_girl
Summary: There were moments where there was nothing left for him to say, where nothing could make up for the water under the bridge. There were moments when he held on and held on and then he realized all that he was holding on to was empty air, because everything that he had been holding on to was gone. Even when he waited, nothing ever came back. But he just kept waiting, and nothing came. He kept waiting, because there was nothing else to do. They kept running, because the alternative was past facing. They never came back.It was a fact of life that when you walked out a door and meant it, you never saw that door again. (Unless you were Jughead. He always came back. Maybe ‘cause he, of all people, knew how much it hurt to be left behind. Maybe ‘cause he was dumb like that.)





	

It was one of those moments where Jughead Jones didn’t know what to do.

They’d been coming more and more often lately--the moments where there was nothing left for him to say, where nothing could make up for the water under the bridge--the moments when he held on and held on and then he realized all that he was holding on to was empty air, because everything that he had been holding on to was gone. Even when he waited, nothing ever came back. But he just kept waiting, and nothing came. He kept waiting, because there was nothing else to do. They kept running, because the alternative was past facing. They never came back.

It was a fact of life that when you walked out a door and  _ meant  _ it, you never saw that door again. (Unless you were Jughead. He always came back. Maybe ‘cause he, of all people, knew how much it hurt to be left behind. Maybe ‘cause he was dumb like that.)

Now Betty was somewhere out there not knowing what to say to him, and nothing she could say or he could say could fix what he  _ didn’t say.  _ He had done this, to her and to himself. All of it was his fault. In a shit life like his, that particular brand of helplessness was rarer. He didn’t get to be the victim this time, or the sad loser in the corner who makes people go like, ‘10 dollars says you can’t make him cry.’ He, no one else, had ruined everything. Betty had been…

Well, she’d been  _ everything. _

She’d been the one person who’d trusted him, and believed in him, and understood him better than he understood himself, sometimes. She’d turned him from the narrator into a kind of unwilling protagonist--the casualty of a real-life Allegory of the Cave, brought into the light. She’d looked at him and touched him and seen something better. It was--she was--nothing short of miraculous.  _ Had been,  _ he reminded himself, tasting the words on his tongue.  _ Had been.  _ Like his dad had been clean, once. Like Jellybean and Mom had been at home, once. Like life had been black and white with sharp lines, once, but now it was grey and cold, and everything was jagged.  _ Once upon a time,  _ Jughead thought. He shivered.

The door creaked. Jughead leapt to his feet.

She was a vision.

“Polly’s finally asleep,” Betty murmured, closing the door behind her. Jughead’s hands found the back of his sweater and pulled it down. They--his hands--were trembling slightly.

(Don’t go.)

She walked slowly towards him as she talked, skirting the couch until they were face-to-face. Jughead felt stiff. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Any movement was entitlement. He didn’t deserve any of it anymore. In the back of his mind, he was dimly aware that he never had.

“What a mess,” she whispered. The bitterness in her voice hurt so much. This was supposed to fix it. Maybe he could have helped. He should have tried, anyway. He should have  _ done  _ something.

(There was nothing else to do.)

Jughead’s hungry eyes had been fixed on her face like a last glance, but now they plummeted to the floor. He swallowed. His arms were stitched to his sides.

“I should have told you about my dad when I had the chance.”

Betty smiled reassuringly, almost on instinct, but it faded almost instantly. Jughead knew by now that the smile was fake. The regret on her face should have hurt, and it did. Still, he couldn’t repress an almost bizarre sense of pride knowing that, even after what he’d done, she wouldn’t plaster a smile on like she did for Archie and pretend she’d bounced back. 

And then he thought it through, and realized that all it meant was that she would always be honest with  _ him.  _ The faint glow turned sour.

“So why didn’t you?” Betty asked softly.

The words came easily. Any elaboration would have been sugarcoating. “I was ashamed.”

(I’ll miss you.)

(Please don’t go.)

(The future won’t be the same without you.)

(Don’t leave me behind, but I can’t come where you’re going, just stay, please—)

_ She took his hand in hers. _

It was like the sun was shining on the moon. He stared at it numbly-- _ he didn’t deserve-- _ and at her touch, he glowed a little brighter with a light that wasn’t his.

“Jughead...if we’re gonna be together…”

Maybe, just maybe, the world did give second chances.

Maybe some people could come back.

Or maybe Betty Cooper existed in her own dimension.


End file.
